The Arthur Zone
by Dead Composer
Summary: A series of Twilight Zone parodies starring Arthur and his friends.
1. Kitty Without Pity

Disclaimer: I don't own Arthur or The Twilight Zone.

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**Arthur Read, age 8. An average kid about to take a not-so-average plunge into…The Twilight Zone. Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do…**

'Twas the night after Christmas. Arthur and D.W. were gleefully playing with their new toys as their mother labored at cleaning up the scraps of wrapping paper and tinsel from the floor. While Arthur carefully guided his Bionic Bunny action figure through the airspace of the living room, D.W. repeatedly pushed the button in the belly of her stuffed, striped kittycat. "My name is Tina the Talking Tabby." "I love you very much." "Will you be my friend?" "I'm hungry. Feed me."

"Argh!" grimaced Arthur as he listened to his sister's cat toy say "I'm so glad to be your kitty" for the umpteen thousandth time. "D.W., shut that thing up!"

"But I love my new Talking Tabby," said D.W., holding the toy up to her cheek and smiling blissfully.

"Mooommm!" Arthur groused. "D.W.'s toy is driving me crazy. Tell her to cut it out."

"You're just jealous because your Bionic Dummy doll doesn't talk," said D.W. petulantly.

"That's Bionic Bunny," Arthur snapped.

"It's time for both of you to go to bed," said their mother.

"Aaawww," groaned Arthur and D.W.

After the two children had retired to their bedrooms, Arthur lay awake for several hours, formulating a plan for the elimination of his sister's annoying new plaything. Finally the digital clock on the nightstand read midnight, and he jumped out of bed.

Opening his door very quietly, he tiptoed along the upstairs hallway toward D.W.'s room. He felt terrible about what he intended to do, but the only alternative was a gradual loss of his sanity.

The door to D.W.'s room was open a crack, and he slipped through stealthily. There lay his younger sister, snoozing peacefully, with her Tina toy lying on its back next to her. Without making a sound, Arthur wrapped his hands around the offending kitty and pulled it to his chest.

Out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and through the front door he crept noiselessly. Half a block of cold, wet snow stood between him and the garbage dumpster, but he bravely made the trek. He could feel the water seeping through the feet of his pajamas as he tossed Tina into the dumpster. At last the enemy was vanquished; at last he could breathe easily again.

As he reentered the house and closed the front door after him, he was startled by the sudden ringing of the phone. Who would call at this hour? he wondered.

Curious, he picked up the receiver. An oddly familiar, high-pitched female voice spoke to him:

"My name is Tina the Talking Tabby, and I'm going to kill you."

Then the line went dead.

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to be continued 


	2. DW: The Demon Within

When Arthur woke up the next morning, his eight-year-old mind had all but forgotten about the mysterious phone call, as well as the fate of his sister's toy. It came rushing back to him when he heard a plaintive cry from the hallway.

"Mommm! Where's my Tina the Talking Tabby?"

"I thought you took it to bed with you," came their mother's voice.

"I did," moaned D.W. "But she distappeared."

Arthur stretched and jumped out of his bed, prompted by hunger and an urge to correct his sister's pronunciation. As he walked out of the bedroom in his bunny slippers, a scowling, indignant face greeted him.

"You did it!" D.W. bellowed. "You stole my Tina! Where is she? If you harmed one hair on her head, I'll call the United Nations!"

Arthur did his best to look innocent. "I didn't do it," he claimed. "No one saw me do it. You can't prove anything."

To his surprise, D.W.'s pupils started to glow with an angry red shade. The furious little girl pointed a finger at him, and an odd, tingly sensation spread through his body…

When Mrs. Read next looked up at the hallway, she saw D.W. lowering her arm and grinning with satisfaction. "Where's Arthur?" she asked, seeing no sign of the boy.

"I wished him into the cornfield," D.W. replied.

"We don't have a cornfield," Mrs. Read pointed out.

"Oopsie," said D.W. indifferently.

The aardvark girl descended the stairway, marveling at what she had just done to her brother. "What do you want for breakfast?" her mother inquired.

"I'd like some of Dad's leftover cake," was D.W.'s answer.

"Oatmeal it is," said Mrs. Read.

Frowning, D.W. raised a finger and pointed it at her mother, whose expression suddenly became glazed.

"Yes, D.W.," she droned. "You may have as much cake as you want."

"Excellent," said D.W., tenting her fingers.

As she grabbed a plate and fork to serve herself, Mrs. Read wandered upstairs in search of her son. "Arthur, come down for breakfast," she called out. "We're having cake this morning."

Finding that the remaining pieces of cake were somewhat stale, D.W. closed the refrigerator door, sat down at the kitchen table, gripped her fork tightly, closed her eyes, and concentrated. When she looked again, an ornately frosted three-level wedding cake had materialized in front of her. Standing on top of the cake were miniature versions of Arthur in a tuxedo and Francine in a wedding gown.

Smiling eagerly, D.W. took up her fork and started to carve a chunk from the cake. "Arthur, I love you so much," she mumbled while grabbing the slice with her bare hands. "Will you marry me? Oh, Francine, I thought you'd never ask!"

Three greedy bites later, she watched her mother return from the upper floor. "I can't find Arthur anywhere," the aardvark woman reported. "Where did you get that cake?"

"From heaven," replied the girl with frosting on her cheeks.

Mrs. Read watched in astonishment as D.W. shoveled one forkful after another into her mouth. When it appeared that her daughter had consumed her own weight in cake, she stepped forward and said, "I think you've had enough."

D.W. merely waved a finger at her.

The place where Mrs. Read had stood was now occupied by a shiny new vacuum cleaner.

A frantic, muffled voice emerged from the machine. "Where am I? I can't see! Help! Let me out of here!"

"Suck it up, Mom," said D.W.

A few houses away, Tommy and Timmy Tibble were dressing for school when a strange object appeared on the floor before them.

Tommy paused from buttoning his shirt. "Wow, did you see that?" he remarked. "A toy just popped up out of nowhere."

"It must be from Santa Claus," said Timmy.

"I don't think so," said Tommy. "We've been good, but not _that_ good."

Curious, Timmy bent over and picked up the little plush toy. "It looks like Arthur," he commented.

"Yeah, it's got the glasses and the sweater," said Tommy.

"But no pants," Timmy observed.

"Maybe it's a Tickle Me Arthur," said Tommy excitedly. "Push its tummy."

Timmy did so, and the doll spoke in a clownish voice: "My name is Arthur the Aardvark, and I'm a big fat doofus."

"Cool!" said Tommy with glee.

Timmy pushed the toy's belly button again. "My name is Arthur the Aardvark, and I'm very sorry for what I did to my sister."

"Again!" said Tommy.

"My name is Arthur the Aardvark, and I don't want to be a toy anymore."

"This is the coolest toy ever," Timmy enthused.

"Let's tear it open and see what's inside," said Tommy.

"Yeah," said Timmy. "Maybe it has a spirit."

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to be continued 


	3. To Serve Aardvark

The rounded edges of the massive, saucer-shaped spacecraft glinted in the sunlight like diamonds. A long line of passengers stood before the entry ramp, flanked by nine-foot-tall aliens with green skin and pointed ears. Among those boarding the ship were Arthur, D.W., Buster, Muffy, and their parents.

"It's hard to believe I'm about to visit another planet," said Buster wistfully.

"With alien toys," mused D.W., imagining a life-sized Mary Moo Cow doll that could sing and dance.

"And alien fashions," said Muffy, picturing herself in a shiny dress made from sculpted metal.

"And alien food," said Buster, dreaming of a dinner table covered with garishly colored entrees, some of which were wriggling like tentacles.

"I wonder why Sue Ellen didn't sign up for this," Arthur remarked. "She's the one who likes to travel."

"I haven't heard much from her lately," said Muffy.

"Yeah," added Buster. "It's like she has permanent laryngitis."

The line inched slowly forward. "I never thought I'd see it in my lifetime," said Bitzi, Buster's mother. "All of the world's problems solved—by beings from outer space."

"Not all of them," said Muffy, holding up one of her braids. "Just look at these split ends."

"Look over there!" exclaimed Arthur.

The kids were surprised to see Brain and Sue Ellen racing toward them at top speed; Brain was carrying a large, leather-bound book under one arm.

"Stop!" the boy cried out. "Don't get on the spaceship!"

"Why not?" asked Muffy.

"They translated the book the aliens brought with them," said Brain, holding up the volume so his friends could read the title.

"What does it say, Arthur?" asked D.W. "I can't read."

"It says, TO SERVE AARDVARK," Arthur replied.

"What's so bad about that?" D.W. wondered.

"I'll tell you what's so bad about it," said Brain. "It's a COOKBOOK!"

Arthur and Muffy gasped in horror. Sue Ellen stood to one side, her mouth agape, not saying a word.

"A cookbook?" said Buster curiously. "Let me see it."

Brain handed him the tome, and the rabbit boy began to leaf through the pages. He stopped when an illustration caught his attention.

"Mmm," he muttered, licking his lips. "Aardvark cordon bleu with mashed aardvark eyeballs. And for dessert, strawberry aardvark pie a la mode."

"Vomitrocious!" said Muffy, grimacing.

"Not if you use chicken in place of aardvark," said Mrs. Crosswire, glancing over Buster's shoulder.

"I heard that!" protested a chicken woman standing behind her in the line.

"Er, kids, why don't we go say goodbye to Grandma Thora before we get on the ship?" Mr. Read suggested nervously.

"I heartily agree," said Mrs. Read, clutching Baby Kate tightly to her chest.

"Let's go, D.W.," said Arthur. "I don't like the way Buster's looking at us."

As the Read family hurried away from the line of people, Buster drooled over a picture of another delicacy. "Oh, yes...stir-fried aardvark brains…BRAAAAIIINS…"

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to be continued 


	4. The Doomsday Trigger

Binky, Molly, and Rattles followed the dank corridor to a spacious, carpeted room with only a few wall lights for illumination. Three chairs had been placed next to the doorway, so they took the hint and sat down. A few dim, unrecognizable shapes were visible on the far end of the chamber.

"This sure is a creepy place to hold a semiannual high school reunion," Binky remarked.

"This whole thing is weird," said Rattles. "I thought it was only supposed to happen once a year, like birthdays and church."

"I still can't believe Arthur and Fern got together," said Molly.

"You say that every year," said Rattles.

"And I'll keep saying it until I believe it."

"You wanna know what I think?" said Binky suspiciously. "I think somebody's planning a big surprise for us."

"Abandon all hope, ye that enter here," spoke an eerie, yet faintly familiar, voice.

"Who said that?" Rattles blurted out.

"Dante Alighieri," Molly told him.

Suddenly every light in the room switched on. The figures at the other end of the room became clear—they were a young moose man with broad antlers, and a control console at which he was seated.

"Oh, it's just George," said Binky flippantly.

The crazed-looking moose pushed a button, and a steel panel slid into place in the doorway, sealing the three guests inside. "I'm so glad you could make it," he said in a sinister tone. "The others can't be here, I'm afraid."

"What's with the big computer?" asked Molly.

"It's the operations center for my orbiting doomsday device," George replied.

Binky, Molly, and Rattles laughed. "You always wanted one of those," said Binky mockingly.

"Silence!" George bellowed. "You do not comprehend the gravity of your situation."

"I fell asleep during the lesson on gravity," joked Rattles.

"You caused me no end of torment at school," said George bitterly. "You stole my lunch money. You gave me unprovoked wedgies. You even sawed off my antlers just so you could dunk my head in a toilet."

"We're sorry for all that, okay?" said Molly.

"We're grownups now," said Binky. "We don't do that stuff anymore."

"But we'll always have the memories," said Rattles wistfully.

George waved his finger threateningly over a switch. "Now it's my turn to torment you. In exactly five minutes I will flip this lever, and my doomsday satellite will irradiate the Earth, destroying all human and animal life."

The three guests stared blankly at him.

Molly grinned. "I guess we're safe then. We're not really human _or_ animal. We're something else altogether. I'm not sure exactly what, but I like to think of us as…"

"Do _not_ go there, Molly," Rattles cut her off.

"All human and animal life," George continued, "except for the four of us sitting in this shielded chamber."

"You can't be serious," said Binky. "There'd be no one left to repopulate the planet. We're all men here except for Molly, and she's, well, you know…"

"If you wish, you can return to your wives and children, and perish with them," said George. "But I expect you'll stay here and save yourselves, like the cowards you are."

"He just dissed us!" Rattles complained. "I say we give him a wedgie."

"No, that would be immature," said Binky. "Let's sue him instead."

"You have four minutes to decide," said George.

The three former bullies consulted among themselves. "What if he's telling the truth?" said Molly anxiously. "What if this really is the end of the world?"

"Oh, man, and I never got to tell my wife that I love her," said Binky. "And I mean never."

"If this is your idea of a sick joke, it's not sick enough," Rattles said to George. "Now open that door."

"As you wish," said George. With the push of a button, the metal plate moved aside.

Rattles stepped slowly toward the doorway, then turned, a devilish grin on his face. "But before I go, I'd like to do…THIS!"

Rushing forward, he placed his hand on the doomsday trigger.

"Stop!" cried George. "The door's still…"

ZZZZAAAAPPPP

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The End 


End file.
